


Sunkissed

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Inarizaki, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: When he looks back, it’s the early summers Ginjima remembers with the most fondness. The time new teams were gelling, the excitement and trepidation as they prepared for Inters. Before any disappointment could set in, when the year ahead was as bright as the sky.Ginjima Hitoshi spends three summers with three others as they practise and dream.





	Sunkissed

**Author's Note:**

> Sunkissed was writtem for the Inarizaki Zine, which I was honoured to be a part of. I love these foxes so much and it pains me not to see them in the manga, even though I'm a crow girl through and through. 
> 
> Thank you San and Ewa for creating this chance for me to write more about them.
> 
> The zine was based around seasons, and mine was Summer.

When he looks back, it’s the early summers Ginjima remembers with the most fondness. The time new teams were gelling, the excitement and trepidation as they prepared for Inters. Before any disappointment could set in, when the year ahead was as bright as the sky.

~*~

Despite being in the same class as Miya Atsumu, he doesn’t sit with him during breaks in practise. Gin’s gravitated towards Suna, or perhaps they found each other as Suna’s in the same class as Miya Osamu and they both appear to be tiptoeing around the twins.

Gin’s not even sure they have much in common besides the obvious, but maybe it’s more that they’re both conspicuously ‘Not Miyas’ that it gives them a sense of friendship. So more often than not, they’ll share some of their lunch, or wait for the other after practice, or complain about Atsumu when he gets into one of his strops, and they not-so-secretly cheer when Ojiro-san clips him around the ear.

Then Osamu joins them. It starts one day when he’s had a blistering row with his brother, and with a scowl entrenched on his face, he scuffs the ground looking for somewhere to sit. Gin, who’s suffered the most from Atsumu’s sharp tongue this week, raises his hand and ignoring Suna’s hiss, calls out, “Hey, want to join us?”

“Thanks,” Osamu mutters and sinks to the grass. “Don’t fancy sitting with… uh ...”

“We’d noticed,” Suna says, voice quiet and with a hint of mockery. “You got it worse than Ginjima today.”

Gin grins at him. “Took the heat off me.”

Osamu begins to frown, but then he lets out a sigh and sprawls his legs in front of him. “He’s doing my head in. We all suck sometimes, but he acts like he never does.”

He continues to grumble as he opens his bento box, and then he stops, his eyes flicking over the food, and the tiniest of smiles twitches his lips.

It’s during the first summer that Gin and Suna discover just how dependent Osamu’s moods are on his stomach. He’s eaten half of his rice and all of the omelette, before he resumes speaking again, and this time his tone is mellow, far more like the boy who introduced himself at the beginning of term with a rueful smile at his brother who’d demanded a greeting.

 Then he clicks his tongue. “Aw, man! Strawberry,” he complains, pulling out a small pot of pudding. “I swear Mum gave me the chocolate one.” Swivelling round, his eyes bore into his brother’s back. “Bet he swapped it.”

Clouds appear in the sky and in Osamu’s eyes, and it’s clear he’s about to yell at his brother, which Suna, tilting his head to one side, is obviously counting on because his hand’s already on his phone.

“Swap you.” Gin holds out his own pot of pudding, chocolate and one he likes, but it’s kind of blissful not having a row going on around them.

Osamu accepts, with a chuckle of a laugh. Gin can feel rather than see Suna rolling his eyes.

On the steps, still with his back turned firmly against his brother, Atsumu is joined by Kita Shinsuke, a second-year, who although he doesn’t seem to play has nonetheless left an impression on Gin, one he’s not sure he’s altogether comfortable with.  Kita chats to Atsumu for a while, and Gin watches as Atsumu –for once—listens.  And when the lunch hour is almost over, Atsumu gets to his feet and wanders over to them.

His hands are in his pockets and he’s scuffing the dry grass with his sneakers, much like Osamu had done forty-five minutes before. “Uh, Ginjima-kun. Want me to toss for you?”

~*~

Osamu tires more easily in the summer. The hot weather and long practise sessions before the Inter-High leave him hungrier than usual, and that leads to snappishness. That second summer, Gin and Suna discover Osamu’s ability to sleep anywhere, especially lying out in the sun during a break.

“Yo! Hit some more balls!” Atsumu yells when they’ve both finished their snacks, but Osamu’s had enough.

“Power nap,” he declares, and, his training top under his head, he stretches out.

As Atsumu scowls, Gin waits for him to yell, yet to his surprise, there’s no ruckus, and when Osamu closes his eyes, Atsumu grins. He reaches into his knapsack, pulling out a small spray bottle, and presses his finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” he whispers, and gives Gin a wink. “This’ll teach him to be a lazy slacker.”

“Hardly slacking,” Gin starts to reply, but Suna’s smirking, clearly recognising what Atsumu has in his hands.

Edging closer to his brother, Atsumu sprays around  Osamu, letting the liquid fall like mist onto his hair, then stuffs a hand in his mouth to stop an errant giggle.

“What is that?” Gin mutters.

“Givin’ ‘Samu the sunkissed look,” Atsumu whispers. “He’ll be as blond as you soon, Gin-kun.”

“He’ll kill you,” Gin says, eyes wide in horror.

“Naw, he won’t,” Atsumu replies. “He’ll think it’s some odd phemon…phenon … phe—”

“Phenomenon,” Suna offers, and with sly smile, slides his phone back in his pocket. “Be a shame if someone had documented it, right?”

“You ASSHOLE!”

Osamu half opens his eyes and whacks both of them with his hand. “Let me sleep!”

And Suna, rubbing his nose where Osamu’s uncoordinated hand had connected, reaches out to Atsumu. “Let me spray some.”

 

It’s three days later, when Atsumu’s been anointing his brother every break he gets, and the sun’s been beating down on them all, that Osamu peers into the mirror. “I don’t get it…” he mutters as he tugs at his hair.

“I thought it was a style choice.” Aran’s frowning at his reflection and shoots Osamu a dismissive side-glance. “At least I can tell you two morons apart.”

“You mean it’s not deliberate?” Akagi teases, then blinks up at Osamu. “You know, it’s kinda cool, Osamu-kun, whatever you’ve done.”

“Shit…” Atsumu’s eyes narrow as he scrutinises his brother and Gin follows his gaze, concentrating properly for the first time in days on Osamu.

His hair as it falls on his face is lighter, a brownish-grey that not only makes him look different from his twin, but also emphasizes his sleepy-looking eyes. And for some reason, as he straightens his shoulders to scrutinize his reflection further in the mirror, he looks taller.

“He _does_ look cool,” Suna murmurs, sounding unusually impressed.

“SHIT!” Atsumu repeats, and dashes for his bag. He removes the bottle, shakes it, then starts to spray fervidly, almost emptying it over his hair. “I got some catching up to do!”

~*~

It’s not just the third years they’ve lost as they approach the Inter-High, but a certain _joie de vivre_ that once encompassed them, feels as if it’s gone irreparably this year. Maybe it was bound up with their senpais’ presence, a way of kicking back a little against the hierarchy, or maybe, as Gin suspects, the last loss was too damning for all of them and not something they want to go through again.

They’re harder, and volleyball is less about fun and far more about slaking the deep thirst inside, to take that chance to power to the top. And, as they’re all aware, although none of them say it, they’re running out of time.

After a word with one of the second-years, Gin joins the others on the grass, giving only half an ear to the conversation, while trying to work out what’s wrong with the narrow-angled shot he’s been attempting.

“I’m just sayin’,” Osamu mutters, “that you got to stop fretting on the fact that you won’t get to play him. You might not have done, anyway, even if they had qualified.”

“You’re not the only one who’d wanted a rematch,” Suna adds, his voice a little lazy in the sun. “I’d love to see what that megane robot can pull now.”

“But …” Atsumu bites into his wrap. “Frustratin’, you know. I mean, it ain’t even Shiratorizawa! Who are these kids?”

“Datekou,” Gin supplies, then blushes because he knows the question was metaphorical.  Coughing, he remembers an article he read about Miyagi’s qualifiers. “They’ve got a decent ace. He’s captain, too.”

“Pain in the ass, according to my source,” Suna says.

“Source?” Osamu shuffles onto his side and tugs on Suna’s shirt. “Who are you chattin’ to?”

“Special Captains’ stuff,” Suna replies with an infuriatingly enigmatic smile. He relents. “I found Karasuno’s captain on Instagram, started to follow him, he recognised me, and we … uh … we’ve kept in touch. Ennoshita has a wide network—including four of the Tokyo teams—very useful.”

“I’m WOUNDED!” Osamu yelps and clutches his heart.

“Rin talks to other people!” Atsumu gasps and wipes a fake tear from his eye.

“Anyway!” Suna retorts. “According to Ennoshita, Date Tech have a Setter whose tosses are out of this world.”

“Oh…” Osamu glances at his brother, and although Atsumu doesn’t say a word, there’s a gleam in his eye, an excitement that he’d lacked since hearing the news that Kageyama wouldn’t be around for a rematch. Screwing up his rubbish, Atsumu takes a last swig of his water and gets to his feet.

“C’mon, scrub,” he murmurs to Osamu. “You’re hittin’ some of my tosses.”

And his brother, even though he has some food left, stands up and follows with no complaint.

“Out of this world?” Gin asks, feeling a little nervous because a Setter better than Kageyama, would be on a par with Atsumu and that’s truly terrifying.

But Suna chuckles. “Okay, the exact words from Ennoshita, were that he sends his tosses so high that the ball goes out of orbit, but … uh … let’s not tell them that and ruin this sudden enthusiasm. ‘Tsumu needs a nemesis, they both do…” He opens his eyes to stare directly at Gin. “What else did your magazine say about Datekou?”

Gin takes a breath. “Their blockers are known as the Iron Wall.”

“I’ve heard that, too,” Suna replies, and the smile hardens. “Would love a chance to manoeuvre past them.”

“D—” Stopping abruptly, hoping Suna hasn’t noticed, Gin picks at a blade of grass, teasing it with his fingernail. But in the years they’ve known each other, Suna’s never missed a thing, however small the nuance.

“What?”

Gin takes a breath. He’s not scared these days to be a dissenting opinion, not so concerned to keep the peace, but he doesn’t want to sound critical, not when he knows the enormity of the captaincy burden that Suna’s taken on. “Don’t you think there’s a danger in focusing on one team?”

And Suna tips his head back, squinting at clouds. “Don’t eat at the monsters banquet before the table’s been laid, right?” 

“Huh?”

“Something Kita-san once said. I’m dreaming that’s all, Gin. Going up against top blockers… you know what I’m like.”

“Ah… okay.” Shielding his eyes against the sun, he hears the twins bickering as they return. “Do you think the senpais will come and watch?” he asks, thinking of the shot he wants to perfect, and how he’d love Ojiro-san to be there.

“Jeez, I hope not,” Atsumu butts in, flopping back on the grass. He’s pink-faced but still consumed with the restless energy that drives him.

Osamu reaches for his bento box. “Why not?”

“I don’t know what’s worse, Aran and Akagi yelling with the demon cheer squad.” Atsumu shudders. “Or Kita-san and Oomimi sipping tea like an old married couple in the front row.”

And just as Gin feels a chuckle loosen in his throat, the other three laugh as well. Raucous belly-laughs, causing the first years to stare in apprehension.

It’s Suna who recovers first, punching Atsumu on the arm. “We’ll have to silence that squad, and make Kita-san splutter on his tea by winning then, won’t we?”

“Too right.”

And now Gin stretches out on the grass and allows himself to dream, to imagine his shot and the senpais looking on agape. Because it’s _their_ time, _their_ summer, four together under the wide blue sky, dreaming of what could be, and right now defeat is unthinkable.


End file.
